


under… water

by Hope



Category: 21 Jump Street, Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-10
Updated: 2005-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for Claire</p>
    </blockquote>





	under… water

**Author's Note:**

> for Claire

It'd been easy enough for Doug to board in Tortuga; sure he'd only arrived in the port that morning, but for all the criminal incestuousness, Tortuga was an easier place than many to start afresh, as it were, without needing a history or a reference to back up your claimed sordidness. So Doug found that all he really needed was the particular stubborn set of his jaw, speckled with a couple of day's worth of beard, bigger hoop than usual pinned through his earlobe and a stinking, draping mish-mash of clothing.

But of course, everything can't _ever_ be that easy, and Doug finds himself questioning yet again Captain Fuller's sanity due to his decided course of action for his undercover teams. Tom's still gasping like he hasn't learned the proper way to breathe yet, huge gulps of it like a fish out of water, which is kind of what he is, Doug supposes. Right now, anyway. He stays to the back of gathering crowd of crew surrounding Tom's kneeling form, keeping silent but watching keenly, belly tense and hands ready for… something. Anything. Though drawing out his pistol in this crowd this far away from shore isn't likely to get him anything except a long walk off a short plank. So he waits. Watches.

Tom gasps again, drops his head, swallows. His shoulders tense for a moment, then settle into a less violent, more steady rhythm.

"Well well, then," It's the Captain, Sparrow, sauntering on deck for a better view, stopping by the wheel, fingers spidering across its stokes idly. "What have we here?"

"Pulled him out of the water not five minutes ago, Cap'n," one of the crew fills in, possibly needlessly as the growing puddle around Tom's knees speaks volumes for itself. "Looks like he came off one of the navy ships."

Abruptly, Tom struggles to stand, teetering a bit to find his footing; either from the pointed rock and keel of the ship's deck or the fact that he seems to be missing one of his buckled, heeled shoes. One of the smooth, white stockings is wrinkled around the ankle just above the remaining shoe, and despite the fact that his dark blue (almost black from wet) coat is still tucked in narrowly around his waist, the frocked tails of it drip over his hips, still miserably heavy with sea water. He coughs once, then again more harshly, jerking forward and spitting out what looks to be a string of sea grapes. The frilly cuffs of his white shirt flop with a _splat_ting sound as he attempts to push wet hair out of his eyes.

"What _rank_ are you then, boy?" Sparrow holds his hands up at shoulder-height, ostensibly for balance, Doug thinks at first, but re-assesses that assumption when the Captain pauses his leisurely orbit of Tom's still slightly unbalanced figure to pick at a clump of wet hair at the back of Tom's neck, rub it between finger and thumb then sniff at it curiously before continuing.

"I--" Tom's teeth are chattering by this stage, and Doug shifts uneasily. "Cabin boy."

"And what, pray tell, are you doing out of your cabin?" Doug watches Tom flinch back a little, no doubt due to the Captain's rather distinctive breath as he leans in to question the newly acquired passenger eye-to-eye.

"T-Treasure," Tom stutters, and stares right back. "Pirate treasure."

Doug resists the urge to snort aloud. "Ah," Sparrow strokes a plait from his beard in one long, idle stroke. "And you thought you might find it at the bottom of the ocean?"

"N-No, on a pirate ship," Tom explains further, and Sparrow gives another _Ah_, sounding more as if someone has just explained to him something that he has been trying for years to understand. Doug frowns, wary of the exaggerated tone and the way that Tom doesn't seem to notice it; head down again, dripping salty water from the tips of his bangs to the greasy deck; but then Doug notices Sparrow watching from the corner of his eye as he apparently tilts his head away to think, and the glint he sees does nothing to ease his anxiety, just shift it a little bit with a new perspective.

"_Pirate_ treasure, ay?" Doug blinks and Sparrow is abruptly at Tom's side, fingers creeping onto one tailored shoulder. Tom looks just as startled, blinking like a fish gasping for water with his clotted eyelashes. "Pirate _treasure_. I think I might have just what you're looking for, if you'll just accompany me to my cabin."

Tom's half-cobbled footsteps beat an odd rhythm on the deck as he totters along under Sparrow's guidance, and enough of the crew have gone back to their tasks that they don't notice Tom surreptitiously giving Doug a thumbs-up as they pass. Doug's pretty sure that Tom doesn't notice the wink Sparrow throws over his shoulder once they've passed, though.

**Author's Note:**

> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/30930.html


End file.
